


Second Chances

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Series: Voltron Hospital AU [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Adoptive Siblings, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Siblings, Keith Is A Little Shit, M/M, Shadam, Shiro is a disaster gay and Adam is his functional gay boyfriend, The story of how Shiro accidentally adopted a little brother, adashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 06:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18614686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: The story of how Keith and Shiro met after a fateful brawl which landed Keith in the ER. Because who needs normalcy these days.





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> Hi it is currently 11:52 PM and I have consumed three cups of coffee in the past three hours. :) 
> 
> In case you were wondering, (you weren't but I'm telling you anyway because you are literally powerless to stop me), in this AU Adam and Shiro first met and got together in med school and I know this has nothing to do with the story whatsoever, but it’s important to me that you know that. 
> 
> Also Adam's full name is Adam West and you can't change my mind.
> 
> Oh and the kid Keith fights is James I think. I say "I think" because despite what one would assume, I, the author, _also_ have no idea what's going on right now. How's that for anarchy?

“Takashi. My love. The wind beneath my wings. The ‘fre’ to my ‘sha vaca do’. I _promise_ Iverson does not have it out for you.”  
  
“He does. He wants me to suffer.” Shiro threw an arm over his face, exhaling loudly.

Adam rolled his eyes. He didn’t turn his head away from the banana peel he was suturing. “You act as if this is the first surgery you’ve ever missed out on.”

He and Shiro were in the intern lounge, Adam at a table and Shiro sprawled out on the floor under his chair. Shiro flailed out with his leg, just barely grazing Adam’s sneaker. “Aren’t you supposed to be my boyfriend? Where’s the support?”

A deadpan look peered over wire-framed glasses. “Oh, my dearest darling. I am so sorry for this terrible injustice.”

“Right? Thank you.” He dropped his leg. “I _told_ you Iverson was mean. Sure he’s a great surgeon and all, but I’d give my right arm to have literally anyone else in this place as my resident.”

“What happened to ‘patience yields focus’?”

“Don’t you dare use my own words against me.” Shiro rolled onto his side, flopping his palm against the carpeted floor. That was when he noticed the figure standing in the doorway. Shiro’s eyes widened and he sprung up, accidentally knocking into Adam’s arm on the way up and making him screw up a stitch. “Doctor Iverson!”

“Shirogane.” Iverson looked at Adam. “West.”

Shiro smoothed out the wrinkles in his scrub top. “I totally wasn’t lying on the floor just now.”  
  
“I don’t care. Look, I need you with me in the ER today. The place is packed, so congratulations—you’ve got a booked schedule tonight.”

Shiro frowned and looked at the clock on the wall. “Actually, sir, I was planning on observing a surgery in a few minutes—”

“You can do that any time. I already have a patient for you, and in this line of work there’s no time for laziness.”

Shiro sent Adam a pleading glance, but his boyfriend was already back to stitching his fruit. Shiro sighed. “Fine. Who’s the patient?”

“Just a stitch job. Kid named Keith Kogane.”

 

* * *

 

If Shiro had to describe Keith in one word, it would be _icy._

From the time Shiro had introduced himself up to now, while he stitched up the two-inch gash on the boy’s forehead, Keith had uttered barely two words to him. He simply sat there on the ER cot, stiff as a board and glaring at everything that moved. He was like a feral cat coiled to spring.

“So,” Shiro said, having had it with the silence. “What happened?”

Keith didn’t look at him. The most he did was wince when Shiro’s knuckle brushed against the bruise on his cheekbone. One of several, in addition to the split lip and head gash.

“Not much of a talker?” Still nothing. “Well, if you’re this roughed up, I’d hate to see what the other guy looks like.”

This time Keith’s mouth twitched. Wordlessly, he jerked a thumb across the room. Shiro followed the path with his eyes, and— Oh.

Shiro hadn’t been paying much mind to Adam’s patient a few beds over, but now things were beginning to click into place. It was another kid around Keith’s age—thirteen, give or take—and from the moment he’d been admitted he was a whirlwind of curses and seething glares and bared teeth. His collarbone was broken judging by the way he held his body, and his face was an array of bruises.

Now that Shiro was paying attention, he couldn’t help catching words like _asshole_ and _psychotic piece of shit_ spilling from his mouth, all the while he glared daggers at Keith. When he caught Keith staring back, he spat, “Fucking _psychopath!”_

A pang of sympathy ran through Shiro when Adam crossed his arms, exasperated. “Can you _please_ sit still? Jesus Christ.”

Shiro’s eyebrows raised. “I’m guessing you know him,” he said to Keith.  

Keith’s jaw tightened and he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ground. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“So he just happened to walk into your fist?” Shiro laughed at his own joke while Keith’s scowl deepened.

“I didn’t start anything.”

“You sure finished it.”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Shiro put up his hands defensively. “Hey, hey, nobody is blaming you, okay? I was just joking around.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him that badly.”

“I believe you.”

Keith looked up at Shiro finally, scanning his face like he was searching for a sign he was lying. He didn’t seem to find one, and the tension in his shoulders slackened.

When the silence resettled, it wasn’t so tense this time around—something Shiro considered a personal win. He focused on his stitchwork, falling into the easy pattern and allotting himself the time to let his mind wander.

“What are you doing?” Keith asked after a while. He was watching Shiro work with a crinkle between his eyebrows.

“Sutures.”

“No, the—the mumbling thing. It’s annoying.”

Shiro hadn’t even noticed he’d been murmuring the steps under his breath. He chuckled. “Habit. Trying not to mess this up.”

Keith’s head twitched like he was going to pull back, but then remembered the needle stuck halfway through his skin and froze again. “I thought you were a doctor?”

Shiro shrugged. “Intern, actually. But don’t worry, I’m still a doctor.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Hesitantly, Keith relaxed again. He kept craning his neck, like he was trying to see what Shiro was doing despite the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to see his own forehead without a mirror. It was funny; most people were squeamish when it came to stitches. Any other kid Keith’s age would be crying or complaining right about then, but Keith just seemed fascinated by the whole thing.

Another growled curse from the other boy made Keith grimace, and in an instant the fascination was gone. It was hard to tell whether he felt guilty about what happened or was just itching to get up and start throwing punches again. Shiro prayed it was the former. He didn’t have the energy for stopping a brawl.

“He’ll be fine, you know,” said Shiro. “You didn’t do that much damage. A fractured collarbone is nothing compared to some of the stuff I’ve seen around here.”

Usually that was the part when a kid would ask for stories about gory accidents and thrilling surgeries. But Keith stayed sullen. “They’re gonna send me away,” he said quietly.

Shiro’s fingers stilled. “Who?”

“My foster parents.”

Shiro blinked. Up until that moment, it had never occurred to him that Keith was in the system. Was it wrong to say that explained a lot? “I’m sure they won’t do that,” he said. “Not after you explain what happened.”

(Maybe that wasn’t the most truthful statement in the world, seeing as Shiro himself had no idea what the story was. For all he knew, Keith could have been a serial killer. But he couldn’t bear to stand there and watch that defeated expression on Keith’s face any longer.)

Keith shook his head. “They’ll send me away,” he said again.

 

* * *

 

“No. No _way_ am I taking that thug back.”

“Please, Mrs. Smith, you can’t just _leave_ him here. He’s a kid,” Iverson insisted.

But the woman shook her head, like the possibility of keeping Keith was nothing short of ludicrousy. “I already called the social worker. She’ll make him someone else’s problem.”

_Thug. Problem._

Suddenly Shiro wanted to slap this woman he didn’t even know. He stood a distance away, watching the confrontation as dense anger pooled in his gut. He snuck a peek over his shoulder to where Keith sat on the ER cot, small fingers scratching at the dried blood on his sleeve. His face betrayed nothing, but Shiro knew he was listening. God, this was fucked up.

Shiro looked to Iverson, hoping he would speak up; tell this woman how cruel she would have to be to abandon a child like this, as though he were a bad dog rather than a human being. But Iverson just inhaled deeply, nostrils flared.

“Fine,” he said. Though the fist clenched at his side suggested it was anything _but_ fine, he kept his mouth shut. Shiro, however…

“You can’t just give up on him for one mistake!” He pushed his way in between them, staring the woman down.

Her eyes narrowed. “ _Many_ mistakes, actually. You think this is the first incident like this to happen? The kid is a psycho. I won’t have that kind of influence around my children.”

“He’s a _child.”_

“A child who will no doubt be in juvie by next year, anyway. Forgive me for not wasting my time.”

Shiro’s anger boiled over and he took a step forward, only to be stopped by a hand on his chest. “Doctor Shirogane,” Iverson growled.

Shiro met his eye and ground his teeth together so hard his jaw throbbed. Reluctantly, he backed down. His nails left crescent-shaped gouges in his palms.

Mrs. Smith arched an eyebrow. “The social worker will be here in a few hours.” And with that, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking on the linoleum.

Shiro and Iverson watched her go. Shiro ran a hand through his hair. “She can’t do this, can she? There has to be some rule against it.”

“She can, I’m afraid.”

“But Keith doesn’t need another foster home, he needs someone in his corner. This isn’t right.”

Iverson shook his head. “No, it’s not. But there’s nothing we can do about it. Just finish patching Kogane up, and I’ll deal with everything after.”

Shiro sighed, but nodded. Even if he wanted to—and he _really_ wanted to—there was nothing he could do to make the situation any less awful. He turned, expecting to find Keith sitting right where he left him. But the cot where Keith had sat was empty, and his stomach dropped to his feet.

“Fuck.”

Before Shiro could go into full-on panic mode, a deafening crash sounded from outside. His head whipped to the window, where others were already running to see what had happened. At the front of the pack was a mop of light brown hair.

“Uh, Shiro?” said Matt. “Isn’t that _your_ car?”

Double fuck.

 

* * *

 

“Let’s go over our ‘Things Keith Did Wrong Today’ list, shall we? Number one: pummeled a classmate.”

“In my defense, he hit me first.” Shiro lifted an eyebrow, and Keith shrank back. “Okay, maybe I hit him first. But it was justified!”

“Uh huh. Number two: walked out of the hospital before being released and without an adult. Number three: stole my car—”

“ _Borrowed_ your car—”

“ _Stole_ my car, and drove it straight into a telephone pole.”

Keith crossed his arms. “I could have figured it out if my feet reached the pedals.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. He prodded at the swollen, purple spot on Keith’s ankle, and Keith hissed. “Quit whining. I think it’s just a sprain.”

_“What are we supposed to do with him?”_

Several beds away, Iverson and Allura’s father—Chief Altea—were talking with their heads close together, every so often gesturing in Keith’s direction. Keith was peeking around Shiro to listen in, so Shiro drew the curtain surrounding the cot closed, separating them from the rest of the room.

Keith bit his lip. “I really fucked up this time, didn’t I.”

Shiro chose to let go of the fact that a child shouldn’t be cursing. He kept his eyes down as he wrapped gauze around Keith’s ankle. “This has happened before, right? Acting out and getting sent away?”

Keith lowered his eyes and nodded.

“Then no offense, kid, but don’t you think it would be smarter to clean up your act? Do normal stuff like playing video games and feeding the dog broccoli. Not breaking other kids’ bones over petty arguments.”

“That was an accident, and it _wasn’t_ a petty argument.”

“Sure.”

“It wasn’t!” That fire was back, blazing beneath his skin.

Shiro moved on to examine the bruise the size of a baseball forming on Keith’s head. “What _did_ happen, then?”

“None of your business.”

“I’m your doctor.”

“You’re an _intern.”_

“And you’re a kid who, as of right now, has only one person in the whole world who’s on your side. So I’d suggest dropping the tough guy act before you lose that, too.”

Keith scowled, and the only thing that kept him from glaring at the floor again was Shiro’s hands holding him still. He stayed silent for a minute, and Shiro all but gave up on trying to pry the truth out of him until: “He made fun of my parents.”

“He...oh.”

Keith tugged out of Shiro’s hold. He swung his legs over the side of the cot despite the action jostling his ankle. “Look, I’m sorry I stole your car, okay? I have enough money for a bus ticket. Just let me leave and I’ll be out of your hair for good.”

Shiro grabbed his shoulder, keeping him in place in spite of his squirming. “I don’t think so. You’re my patient _and_ a minor, which means you’re not going anywhere. Now stay still.”

This time, Keith had little choice but to obey. He grudgingly let Shiro finish his examination without complaining again, aside from squinting when Shiro shined a penlight in his eyes. After giving Keith ice for his head, Shiro informed him that he had a moderate concussion.

It was only when Shiro finished that Keith spoke up again. “...Are you going to press charges?”

Shiro scribbled something on Keith’s chart. “No.”

That seemed to surprise him. “Why not?”

“Because everyone deserves a second chance.” Shiro lowered his head a little to look Keith in the eye. “So don’t blow it.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro couldn’t blame himself for what happened next.

When Iverson informed him that Keith was going to be sent off to another foster home by the end of the day, his heart bled for the boy. According to Keith’s record, this would be the seventh time in three years in which he was going to be relocated. No one wanted to deal with a so-called “discipline case.”

Shiro couldn’t let them move Keith again, not so soon after what happened. And he told Iverson as much. “What if he needed to stay a few days for observation?”

“And why would that be necessary?”

“He has a concussion. It would be irresponsible to relocate him so soon, especially since he’ll be needing steady 24-hour supervision for the next few days.”

Iverson eyed him with suspicion. “What are you doing, Shirogane?”

“I’m just trying to do best by my patient, that’s all.” To drive it home, Shiro flashed his most innocent smile, which according to Matt was so powerful it could convince someone to give up their own child.

Iverson stared him down with a frown, rubbing his chin. Finally he gave up and waved his hand. “Fine. Whatever. Get the boy admitted.”

“Really?” Shiro brightened.

Iverson jabbed a finger in his face. “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“If the kid stays, then he’s _your_ responsibility from now until the minute he’s released.”

“What?”

“Consider Kogane your one and only patient. Wherever he goes, you go. And I’d better not hear about him biting the nurses, or it’ll be your head. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

And so it began.

 

* * *

 

The first day was difficult. As it turned out, the only thing hiding beneath Keith’s crusty exterior was more crust. Go figure.

It was clear that Keith didn’t enjoy being confined to a small room in an unfamiliar place, so his already grouchy personality was dialed to the highest extreme. Plus, it wasn’t easy finding ways to entertain a teenager who only seemed to enjoy violence and probably burning ants to death with a magnifying glass.

Shiro checked the time for the fifth time in the past half hour. “Do you...want to watch TV?”

Keith reminded him of a pug with the way his face seemed locked in a permanent pout. “No.”

“How about a puzzle?”

“No.”

“There’s a gift shop. I could get you toys or something.”

Keith glared at him as though he were a moron. “How old do you think I am?”

Shiro made a face. “Okay...guess not.” He tilted his head back until it rested on the wall behind him. “I thought kids your age were supposed to be fun. You’re kind of an asshole.”

“Then go away,” Keith snapped.

“Can’t. I’m your babysitter.”

“Didn’t realize that was my fault.”

Shiro sighed, sending silent curses to every deity he could think of. It was going to be a long three days.

 

* * *

 

“Ten dollars.”

“No.”

“Fifteen dollars.”

“No.”

“A hundred dollars.”

“Keith, you’re a child. I seriously doubt you have one hundred dollars just lying around.”

Keith flopped back onto his pillow with a groan. “Come on, please? I’m injured. I deserve this.”

“No. If you want ice cream, you’ll just have to get it yourself,” Shiro said while licking his ice cream cone. It was probably in bad taste to eat this right in front of him, but what was he supposed to do? Say no to free cafeteria dessert?

“No one will let me!”

“It’s not my fault you can’t have dairy. I can get you an apple if you’re really hungry.”

“Fuck apples.”

“Hey.” Shiro set him with a stern look and pointed his cone at him. “You watch your fucking language.”

 

* * *

 

Keith threw a red ball to Shiro. “What’s the goriest thing you’ve ever seen in this hospital?”

Shiro caught it in one hand, then tossed it straight up a couple of times. “Are you sure you’re old enough to hear this kind of stuff? You’re, like, ten.”

“I’m thirteen. And you’re thirty, so who are you to talk?”

“I’m only twenty-six, for your information.” Shiro threw the ball back to Keith. They were sitting across the room from each other, Keith in his hospital bed and Shiro in the room’s dingy armchair at the foot of it.

“Has anyone ever gotten their head bitten off?”

“I don’t think someone would come into the hospital if their head was gone. They’d go straight to the morgue.”

Keith threw the ball back. “What’s the morgue?”

“That’s where the dead bodies go.”

Keith sat up quickly, only to fall back again with his eyes scrunched tight. Concussions will do that to you. Still, his eyes were bright when he sat up again—slower this time. “You have a whole room just for dead people?”

“Yes.”

“Can we go there?”

“Absolutely not.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Doctor Shirogane?” Keith had been messing around with a bag of rubber bands for the past hour, while Shiro was studying from one of his many medical textbooks.

“You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know. Just call me Shiro.”

“Okay...Shiro, why do you keep hanging out with me?”

Shiro didn’t stop highlighting his textbook. “Because my boss told me to.”

“Why?”

“Someone needs to keep you company, right?” Keith didn’t reply, and Shiro looked up to see that his expression was not a happy one. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not a bad kid, you know.”

“No one said you were.”

“My foster parents did.”

Shiro waved a hand. “That’s just because they’re old. Old people aren’t very smart when it comes to kids like you.”  
  
“You mean bad kids.”

Shiro put down the highlighter with a sigh. “You’re not a bad kid, Keith. You’ve had a hard life. I get that.” Keith didn’t look convinced. “And you know, I really don’t mind staying with you.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s true. Everyone else around here is too loud. Here, I can actually study for once.”

Keith sat up a bit more. “What are you studying?”

“Doctor stuff.”

“No shit. What _kind_ of doctor stuff?”

“Surgical procedures. Diseases. Stuff a good surgeon should know.” He picked the highlighter back up and went back to his textbook as he spoke.

“Can you read it to me?”

Shiro smiled. “I don’t think you’ll understand much of it, bud.”

“I’m not stupid.”

Shiro wasn’t in the mood to get into this argument, so he rolled his eyes and started reading out loud, continuing right from where he’d left off. He didn’t expect Keith to be able to keep up as Shiro rambled on about the treatments for hydrocephalus, but when he finished off the page and checked to see if Keith had lost interest yet, he found that that was far from the case. In fact, Keith hung on Shiro’s every word.

As time went on and the sunlight filtering through the window gradually turned to shadows, Shiro would stop after every other page to ask if Keith wanted him to stop. But Keith said no every time.

 

* * *

 

“So, Keith. What are your aspirations for the future?”

“This isn’t a job interview, Matt.”

“Hush. I’m just trying to get an idea of what he’s like.”

“Grumpy?” Shiro suggested.

“ _Deeper_ than that.”

“Really grumpy.”

“Keith,” Matt said again, turning back to the boy. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Shiro hadn’t expected Keith to warm up to Matt as quickly as he did. Matt was just the right amount of personable and immature that he never had a problem getting people to like him. He’d broken through Keith’s titanium-enforced shell in just ten minutes with the kid, which had to a new record for Keith.

Keith thought for a while. His lip stuck out the tiniest bit whenever he was thinking hard about something, and the fact that it was completely adorable was irrelevant. “Mob boss,” he said finally.  

Shiro’s jaw dropped, while Matt laughed so hard he was one precarious chair-tilt away from falling on his ass. “Keith, that’s not—” Shiro dropped his face into his hand. “That’s not a real job.”

“Yes it is. I saw it on TV.”

“Yeah, but...I mean, it’s not like you can go to college for that kind of career. It’s not even a career at all. See, being a doctor, now _that’s_ a career.”

Keith’s nose wrinkled. “Why would I want to be a doctor?”

Matt rested his chin in his hand, raising his eyebrows at Shiro. “Yeah, Shiro, why on earth would someone _ever_ want to be a doctor?”

Shiro ignored him. “Keith, I’m literally a surgeon. You still don’t think being a doctor is cool?”

“No.”  
  
“Why not?”

“Because you’re a doctor and you’re lame.”

Matt snorted, burying his head in his arms. “Oh my god. Shiro. Shiro, I love this kid so much.” He lifted his head, wiping fake tears from his eyes. “Hey Keith, am _I_ cool?”

Keith looked him up and down. “Sorta.”

“How sorta?”

“Depends on what kind of doctor you are.”

“The kind who breaks bones on purpose but gets paid for it.”

Keith nodded. “Yep. You’re cool.”

Matt pumped a fist. “Yes!” He faced Shiro. “We’re keeping him, right? Please tell me we’re keeping him.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “He’s not a dog.”

Keith nodded. “Yeah,” he told Matt. “And the social worker’s moving me tomorrow, anyway.”

Much as he would deny it if asked, disappointment sank heavily in Shiro’s chest at the reminder. For a moment there, he’d all but forgotten that Keith would be leaving soon. Over the course of the few days spent with him, Shiro had somehow formed a bond with Keith. He was like the little brother Shiro never had.

But in the end, Keith was just a patient, and Shiro was just his doctor.

He tried not to think about it too hard after that.

 

* * *

 

The day Keith was released from the hospital, Shiro gave him a slip of paper with his cell phone number on it, along with the instructions to call him if he ever needed anything. Why he felt the need to do so, he couldn’t say. Maybe it made him feel better knowing that, at the very least, Keith wouldn’t have to feel _completely_ alone.

(Or maybe it was because it gave way to the dim hope that Shiro and Keith would cross paths again some day. But Shiro made the executive decision to ignore the hell out of _that_ possibility.)

As it turned out, the phone number wasn’t necessary.

Shiro and Allura were in the break room debating on whether it was pronounced _crayfish_ or _crawfish_ when Shiro caught a stray sentence from the other side of the room. His attention swiveled to the two nurses talking by the vending machine.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but did you just say Keith Kogane?”

The taller one gave him a strange look, but nodded. “Just a patient who came into the ER before my break started.”

“A kid? Black hair?”

“Yeah, you know him?” Shiro nodded. “I think it was just a schoolyard fight, but the poor boy looked roughed up. I’m talking _really_ roughed up.”

And Shiro _totally_ wasn’t freaking out on the inside, of course not. “Where did you say he was?”

 

* * *

 

Shiro’s chest coiled into a knot of worry when he got a good look at Keith. At the bruises on his jaw, the way his eye had swelled shut, the dried blood under his nostrils. The way he held his left arm awkwardly and close to his side.

For all his injuries, Keith batted away anyone who tried to touch him. He ignored Coran beside him, placating him to be still and let the doctors treat him. When Keith caught sight of Shiro, though, he stopped fighting.

“Shiro?” he said, as though he couldn’t believe he was actually there.

“What happened?” Shiro asked. The question was directed at Coran, whose face seemed locked in a perpetual frown. He took a step back from Keith towards Shiro, which was probably a good idea; it kept him out of range of Keith’s sharp, jabbing elbow.

“He arrived here about fifteen minutes ago,” said Coran. “He won’t say what happened, but he’s been asking for you.”

Shiro approached the cot where Keith sat, and he kneeled in front of the boy. The damage was even worse up close. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Are you okay?” All right, bad question. But Keith didn’t make fun of him, which was the first sign that something _bad_ had gone down.

Keith wouldn’t meet his eyes, but he nodded.

“What happened? Who did this to you?” And someone _did_ do this. There was no way the finger-shaped bruises on his arms could have come from a tumble down the stairs.

Keith’s face flushed. “I...got into an argument.”

“Another fight at school? Keith—”

“No, it—” Keith swallowed. “It was my foster dad.”

Shiro...Shiro didn’t know what to say to that. He and Coran met eyes, and thank god for what had to be telepathic communication, because Coran excused himself and left for the nurse’s station. Off to call child services, no doubt.

Keith wiped his bloody nose with his sleeve, and Shiro could see now that his eyes were wet. Shiro nodded to the other doctors. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.”

Thankfully, Keith didn’t fight this time when Shiro tended to his injuries. Once the blood was cleaned up and he’d gotten a few band-aids to cover the scrapes, he looked less and less like he’d gotten hit by a bus. As Shiro plastered on the last bandage, he asked, “Can I check out your arm?”

Keith surrendered his arm to Shiro, biting his lip hard while Shiro felt around his shoulder. “The joint’s dislocated. What did he do, throw you against a train?” he asked in a bad attempt to lighten the mood.

“A door, actually.”

Shiro didn’t make another joke after that.

“I’m sorry,” Keith said after a few minutes.  

“For what?” Shiro gently held Keith’s wrist while the other gripped his shoulder.

“For being here. Again.”

Shiro didn’t look up, but his eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t have to apologize for that. Things happen.” _Some pretty awful things._

Keith shrugged with his uninjured shoulder. “You’re training to be a surgeon. I’m taking up too much of your time.”

This time, Shiro did look up. “Keith. My job is to help people. You’re a person, and I’m helping you feel better. I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.” He adjusted his grip. “I’m gonna pop it back in on three, okay? One—”

_Crack._

Keith let out a scream, followed by a string of curses. “Fucking asshole, you said three!”

“It’s easier when you don’t see it coming.” He grabbed a sling and gingerly worked Keith’s arm into it. “Is that why you didn’t call me? You thought you would be a burden?”

Keith didn’t confirm Shiro’s assumption, but he did nothing to deny it either. Just sat still and avoided Shiro’s gaze once again.

“I gave you that number for a reason,” Shiro continued. “A kid like you shouldn’t have to deal with this kind of stuff on your own. I wasn’t lying when I said I’m on your side.”

“I know,” Keith said.

"Good. Because I'm not giving up on you, no matter what you get yourself into. So stop expecting me to, okay?"

Keith met Shiro's eyes, swallowing thickly. "Okay."

"Okay." Shiro let out a deep breath and finished stabilizing Keith’s arm. “I’m going to grab you some painkillers.”

 

* * *

 

“You can’t be serious.”

Doctor Holt, though sympathetic, was unwavering. “I’m sorry, Shiro, but protocol—”

“I don’t care what the protocol says. You saw what that bastard did to Keith.”

“Yes, and he’ll be moved to a group home. Keith will be perfectly fine.” He didn’t say what they were both thinking—that the only reason Keith was going to a group home was because no other foster home in the area was willing to take him.

“Do you really believe that? Keith’s been moved around _more_ than enough, and every one of his foster homes is worse than the last. What do you think is going to happen when he’s stuck in a place surrounded by kids bigger than him and with far less to lose?”

Sam eyed Shiro knowingly. “You’re getting attached.” It wasn’t an accusation.

“I’m just looking out for him.”

“It’s not good to get attached to patients, Shiro. I know this is a screwed-up situation, but our job is to fix him up and send him off. What happens after is unfortunately not our business, and there’s nothing we can do now but let the social workers handle it and move on.”

Shiro folded his arms across his chest. “We can’t let him get sent away again.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. But it’s out of our hands.” Sam patted Shiro on the shoulder with a sad smile and walked off, down the hallway. Shiro watched him go.

This wasn’t right. None of it. Shiro was supposed to just, what, make sure the kid was healthy and then stand aside while the social workers shoved him into the next home with an open spot? Shiro couldn’t imagine what that kind of system would do to someone. Being moved around and pushed right back out, over and over again. Feeling like no matter where he went, he would never have a real home.

Before he could slow down long enough to talk himself out of it, Shiro blurted out, “I’ll take him.”

Sam stopped and turned around. “What?’

“I’ll take him. Keith can live with me.”

 

* * *

 

“Takashi, you remember that dead raccoon that’s been chilling out in front of my favorite parking spot? Well, I am happy to report that old Franklin is finally being eaten by a pack of dogs.” Adam pulled his keys from the doorknob and tossed them onto the table. “I picked us up some sushi to celebrate.”

He walked through the living room, straight to the kitchen where he dropped his bags onto the counter. “Takashi?” He stepped back through the doorway to the living room, and his eyes fell on the couch.

There sat a young boy, bruises on his face and one arm in a sling. He was watching cartoons and eating a bowl of— Were those Adam’s Frosted Flakes?

Adam came over and stood in front of the boy. “Hello...small child. So, I don’t know if you realized this, but you’re kind of eating my cereal.”

The boy ignored Adam entirely, leaning to the side to look past his body at the television.

Adam coughed. “And, like, I know I can’t ask for it back or anything since...you’re already eating it and all. But I think it’s only fair that you don’t get to enjoy it either, seeing as it’s stolen. From me. Adam. One of the people who lives here.”

The kid finally looked at him. His eyes were big and innocent, but the fact that his irises were purple screamed _demon._ Oh, and that one of them was heinously bruised, but it was hard to observe the intruder when said intruder was taking another bite of Adam’s cereal.

The boy chewed for a while and swallowed. “Keith.”

“What?”

“Keith.”

“Oh, you’re...wait. Oh, no. _Please_ don’t tell me you’re that kid Takashi keeps going on about.”

It was at that moment that Takashi himself stepped out of their bedroom, having already changed out of his scrubs and into sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Oh, hey, Adam.” He went to the kitchen. “You got sushi? Did Franklin finally decompose?”

Adam cleared his throat. “Uh, babe?”

He poked his head into the living room again. “Yeah?”

“There’s an infant in my home.”

“Yes, there is.”

“Okay…Would you care to explain to me why that is?”

Realization dawned on Shiro’s face, and his eyes widened. “Fuck. I _knew_ I was forgetting something.”

“Mm-hm.”

Shiro mustered an expression that was half smile, half wince. “Adam, Keith. Keith, this is my boyfriend, Adam.”

Adam raised an eyebrow at Keith. “It’s a pleasure.” At Shiro: “Why is he in my apartment?”

Shiro bit his lip and smiled at Adam hopefully.

“Takashi.”

“Yes?”

 _“Please_ tell me he’s not staying with us.”

“Okay, then I won’t tell you.”

Keith snickered.

 

* * *

 

“No.”

“Please?”

_“No.”_

“Come on, he’s a good kid.”

“So? He’s not a dog, Takashi. You can’t just keep him.”

“I’m not! He’s only visiting.”

“You said that about the turtle.”

“Lord Shellington needed a home. Besides, he died two weeks later so that hardly counts.”

“And the cockroach.”

“Earl already ate half of our oatmeal packets; it was only fair we let him finish them.”

“And the rabbit.”

“How was _I_ supposed to know she had rabies?”

“You’re not keeping him.”

“Where else is he supposed to go?” Shiro gestured to Keith, sitting quietly on the couch while dangling a string for the cat who had come by to sniff around the newcomer.

“I don’t know,” said Adam, “somewhere else? Does it matter?”

“Come on, Adam, we can’t just shove him out the door. Why can’t we keep him around for a little while longer? Let him heal up before having the ‘get out of my house’ talk.”

Adam closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. This man was going to be the death of him. _“Fine._ Fine. You can keep him.” He opened his eyes. “But if he eats anything else that’s mine, he’s out.”

Shiro’s face brightened and he hugged Adam tightly before pecking him several times on the lips. “Yes! Thank you. I swear, you won’t even notice he’s here.”

“How long will he be staying with us?”

“Just a few days. A week, tops,” Shiro promised.  

 

* * *

 

It was more than a few days.

Way, _way_ more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a ton for reading! Leave some food and water on my doorstep please, thank you so much. 
> 
> [Feel free to mosey on down to my Tumblr!](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/)


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